


Happy Accidents

by ComicBooksBro



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Gen, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Magical Accidents, Supportive Sam Winchester, Teen Dean Winchester, Teen Sam Winchester, Trans Dean Winchester, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, Witches, Worried Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26327662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComicBooksBro/pseuds/ComicBooksBro
Summary: Deanna Winchester is hit with a gender-switching spell during a hunt gone wrong. Luckily, they leave town before anyone can notice something is wrong, and start over in a new place when John catches wind of another hunt.Not so luckily, it doesn’t look like there’s a way to reverse the spell.Surprisingly, Dean isn’t so sure he wants to change back.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & John Winchester, Dean Winchester & John Winchester & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester & Original Female Character(s), Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 7
Kudos: 113
Collections: The AO3 SPN Kink Meme





	Happy Accidents

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [theao3spnkinkmeme](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/theao3spnkinkmeme) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Newly trusted by their father to go hunting with him, teenage Deanna Winchester interrupts a witch's ritual that brings on a huge physical change. While John rushes to find a cure (and make new fake IDs), freshly re-christened Dean rapidly discovers that, just maybe, he doesn't want to change back. 
> 
> Maybe all the discomfort from being a girl in a hunter's world, was just from being a girl? Maybe he was right to be indignant when John started treating a 14 yr old Sam as the sibling who had to look out for the pair of them. Sure, some of his reactions are a bit off, but maybe he really does want to try dating girls, too? Maybe wearing so many layers is something he does for a reason.
> 
> Maybe Dean is never, _ever_ changing back, no matter how much their father misses having a living reminder of his late wife. 
> 
> BONUS POINTS: Dean becoming high school popular among girls because, well, fuck, he's got all these tampons he'd stolen that he doesn't need anymore. Dean grappling with wanting to hang on to the nice panties he'd shoplifted.
> 
> ***
> 
> Unfortunately, I didn't manage to get all the bonus points, but I think this came out alright. I hope you guys like it!

_Careful, Deanna._

Deanna Winchester rolled her eyes as she stalked through the greenhouse in the back of Jason Tanner’s yard. Her father’s words echoed in her mind as she rounded the edge of a pallet of some pompom-like orange flowers and adjusted the grip on her gun. She was always careful, but that didn’t stop John from treating her like a baby. He never did that to Sam, despite the fact that he was four years younger.

Frowning, Deanna rested a finger over the safety on her gun and looked around another stack of plants. Jason shouldn’t be there, but there was no harm in being careful.

They had started on this case about a month back, when John had found a newspaper detailing a series of magical-looking deaths, declared it a witch, and decided they were going to kill it. It had taken a while, but they had figured out who the witch was, and had a plan to kill him.

Jason Tanner was, putting it lightly, a piece of shit. He was filthy rich, greedy as hell, and didn’t seem above killing just for fun. He wasn’t the best at magic—several of his spells had failed—but he wasn’t easily discouraged, and he could afford it.

Lucky for them, and not-so-lucky for Jason, they had an in.

Sam was friends with Jason’s son, Martin. Due to the fact that they were living in a motel, Sam went over to Martin’s house to hang out more often than not. And it just so happened that Martin was really friendly, which was how all the Winchesters ended up going over to the Tanner house for dinner. Sam was obviously uncomfortable with killing his friend’s dad, but understood how it was, and if everything went according to plan, the Tanners wouldn’t even know who had done it.

Deanna didn’t like it either, but it was that, or let more innocents die.

The plan was this: show up for dinner. About 15 minutes in, Deanna would make some excuse to leave the table, and head to the greenhouse. Yes, Jason wasn’t very good at magic, but there were several dangerous herbs in there, along with other spell ingredients and a few spell-books. Once there, Deanna would set the place to burn, and return to the house, complaining about feeling bad. From there they would leave, and 15 minutes later, the greenhouse would burn to the ground, rendering Jason mostly powerless.

Later that night, John and Deanna would sneak back into the house, and (hopefully) take out Jason without too much trouble.

Easy as pie.

The far end of the greenhouse was close now, and Deanna froze as a noise came from a corner. There was a quiet snapping, like twigs, and the soft _whoosh_ of a match lighting. A small light appeared, only to go out a few seconds later, but Deanna caught a glimpse of a figure in the shadows and smelled burning herbs.

That wasn’t supposed to happen. The figure had long hair—Deanna could tell that much from the shadow—it _could_ have been Jason’s wife, but she was supposed to be on a business trip in Georgia. Keeping her steps light, Deanna crept forward, and caught another glance of the mystery woman. She hadn’t actually met Mrs. Tanner, but she had seen pictures while they were in the house, and without a doubt, this was her. She was chanting something, latin, maybe, but Deanna had never had an ear for languages.

Deanna took another cautious step forward and felt something wrap around her leg. Looking down, it was only a tendril of ivy, and she let out a relived breath before untangling herself. Another couple steps, and there was a sickening crash behind her. Chancing a glance at what had happened, Deanna could see the remains of a clay pot and an ivy plant.

The chanting had stopped.

Mrs. Tanner had shifted her attention from the burning herbs to Deanna, a dark look on her face. “What are you—“

She didn’t get a chance to finish, because Deanna clocked her across the face. She fell back, and her elbow caught on the bowl, which spilled ashy herbs and God-knew what else on Deanna. She coughed, accidentally breathing in the sooty air, but managed to flip the safety of her gun off and shoot Mrs. Tanner in the chest.

The witch went down hard with a scream of rage and pain. Deanna stumbled back to the doors of the greenhouse, feeling strangely foggy and light. _The spell—shit._

Then everything went black.

***

Deanna woke up to the smell of smoke and a burning ache in her chest. Opening her eyes, she found the entire greenhouse up in flames, quickly oriented herself, and army-crawled to the door, which was only a few feet away. She collapsed completely after she was out of immediate danger, lungs aching from the smoke inhalation. Dark, muddy water soaked into her clothes and she winced at the cold.

“Sam!” She wheezed, worried at how deep and crackly her voice was. _How long had she been exposed to the smoke?_ “Sammy! Dad!” Coughing, Deanna rolled onto her side and spit up some grayish water. “Dad!”

Footsteps approached from the side, growing closer, closer, until Deanna could feel arms under her shoulders and was being dragged away from the fire, still choking on smoke.

Then she was on the ground again, heaving deep breaths. Her throat burned as she dragged night-chilled air into her lungs. Blinking smoky tears out of her eyes, she looked up to whoever had pulled her away from the building.

“Dad,” she whispered, wincing at the painful grate of her raw throat.

John looked down at her without a shred of recognition. “Who are you?”

“What?” Deanna rasped, voice still smoke-choked. “It’s me, Deanna.” Everything still felt floaty, and she was having a hard time focusing. “I’m your…” She managed to sit up, but everything felt slightly off-balance. “Your…” Her head fell forward, and she wheezed, too exhausted to look back up. “Fuck,” she whispered. “Where’re my boobs?” Her chest looked flat, which wasn’t _bad,_ but if definitely wasn’t normal.

Another set of footprints approached from across the lawn, squishing through the recently rained-on grass. _Sam._

“Dad!” Sam shouted, and he was closer now, just a few feet away. “Is Deanna oka—“ He cut off when he saw Deanna. “What happened?”

“I think,” Deanna croaked, mouth tasting like smoke, “I’ve been turned into a dude.”

***

Deanna had, in fact, been turned into a dude. That much, she was aware of. The frantic drive back to the motel had sent her spiraling in and out of consciousness as her lungs struggled to pull in air. Eventually, they had arrived back at the motel, Sam looked worried, and John some combination of concerned and furious. Deanna’s breathing had calmed down after a few minutes, and she had managed to sit up and recount her story.

John had been livid, ranting about Deanna needing to be more careful, and _Goddamnit! Can’t you do anything without screwing it up!_ Sam had hidden himself in the corner, as far from John’s wrath as he could get without leaving the room. Deanna could see the tears in his eyes and wished she could stop it. It was enough that John already treated Sam like an adult at 14, he shouldn’t need to see this, too.

“What did I tell you?” John yelled, towering over where Deanna was curled up on one of the unmade beds. “I said _be careful,_ you had _one_ job, and look what you did? I trusted you to go out on your own _one_ time!”

“It should have been safe,” Deanna said quietly. “We had no idea Mrs. Tanner was home—we didn’t even know she was the witch. It wasn’t my f-fa-fault.”

John threw his hands up in frustration; both Sam and Deanna flinched. “Believe what you want,” he growled, grabbing a lukewarm beer from the sticky linoleum table and taking a long gulp. “We’re leaving tomorrow.” He waved a dismissive arm at Deanna, not bothering to look at her. “Clean yourself up.”

Deanna shakily got to her feet and stumbled to the tiny, grimy bathroom. The door locked after a couple tries, and Deanna’s shaking hands certainly didn’t help matters. Leaning her elbows on the countertop, she took deep breaths and blinked away tears. She stripped off her muddy, cold jacket and let it fall to the floor. Everything was too tight. The flannel under her jacket, which had been loose before, was now skintight against her arms. The shirt underneath was even worse. Deanna ripped the thing in half, but didn’t breathe any easier. The cause of her shortness of breath lay below.

Fucking bras.

Glaring at the traitorous cloth-and-wire garment, Deanna tried to pull it over her head, but it slipped out of her hands and smacked back against her newly de-boobed chest. Biting back a curse, Deanna tried again and barely succeeded in yanking it off. She heaved in a couple of deep breaths, grateful for the air, and coughed again.

She turned and twisted the handle of the shower, watching as water spluttered out of the shower-head, and turned back to the mirror as she waited for the water to warm up. She brushed the sodden jacket, seam-popped flannel, and ripped shirt into the too-small trashcan.

Deanna looked at her body in the mirror. Her face hadn’t changed much, it was a little more square, maybe, but her eyes and lips remained the same. And her short hair now fit her face shape, which was nice. Looking down slightly, she really noticed how _flat_ her chest was, and watched herself breathe.

_Wow._

She ran a hand through her sooty hair and leaned forward. She rubbed a hand over a darker spot on her jaw and— _oh._ Was that _stubble?_ Deanna hummed curiously, and looked at her face again.

She looked… good.

Better than before, at any rate.

There was a loud _bang_ on the bathroom door. “Hurry up!” John shouted. Deanna suddenly remembered the shower was running and she was expected to get in it.

“Gimme a minute!” She called back, once again noticing how deep her voice sounded. It was weird, but a good weird. Now reminded of the shower, Deanna realized to get in the shower she actually needed to… get in the shower. She looked down at her jeans, which were so tight now that they left almost nothing to the imagination. Those would need to come off. She briefly considered skipping the shower and just sticking her head under the water, but she was practically _covered_ in dirt and mud and soot and yeah—a shower was necessary.

Deanna took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and dropped her pants.

***

The rest of the night had passed without much advent, at least to Deanna. She had practically fallen asleep the moment she crawled into bed. Everything ached. Longer legs were suddenly less fun when you had to grow three inches at once.

So was the fact that none of her clothes fit anymore. Deanna had dealt with small clothes before, but this was entirely different. Everything hung strangely on her legs and chest and was too tight in too many places, especially when it was taken into account considered how much taller she had gotten. After attempting to struggle into several of her clothes, Deanna found the only things that looked like he only things that still fit were some (embarrassingly) lacy panties she had stolen a couple weeks prior. Shrugging, Deanna shoved them to the very, _very_ bottom of her duffle bag. 

So, stealing John’s clothes it was.

Speaking of John: he hadn’t spoken much since they had gotten back to the motel, save for his initial outburst. Deanna suspected he was just in shock, they all were, really. Even in the few hours since they had taken down the witch, things had started to get tense and restless. Sam had found a case a couple of states away, and they had gotten on the road early the next morning.

Deanna had slept most of the time, because growing, especially several inches at a time, was exhausting. They had stopped for food at about midday at some crappy diner, but the food quality didn’t matter—Deanna was _hungry._ The burger was bland and kind of soggy but it might as well have been a truffle covered in gold and shredded hundred dollar bills for how much Deanna enjoyed it.

After that, it was back on the road for another several hours of restless sleep in the back of the Impala, and their eventual arrival at the town of Friend. They checked into the only motel at the edge of town, and set up shop. Deanna was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

***

They started school the next week.

The high school was like most others they had been subjected to over the years: musty, understaffed and underfunded. Matters were made worse by the fact that this high school’s classrooms were mostly in the form of trailers. Deanna sighed and shrugged on her Dad’s worn leather jacket before stepping out of the Impala and onto school property. She still hadn’t gotten any clothes, and though she was now the same hight as her dad (how weird was that?), the things she did borrow were still worn out on the wrong places and uncomfortable. At least they were better than what she had before.

After she had caught up on sleep and could focus on functioning like a normal person again, Deanna had discovered being a dude was actually pretty great. That was good thing, too, because it didn’t look like John was making any headway on reversing Mrs. Tanner’s spell.

And, really Deanna wasn’t sure she wanted to change back. It was nice, being called Dean, even if it had only happened a few times so far, it always sent a happy little flame of emotion to Deanna’s chest. Of course, it wouldn’t last. Soon enough, John would find a way to put everything back, and the name, the pronouns, and the curls of joy that came with being recognized as _Dean_ would all be gone. So Deanna made it a point to keep herself as Deanna—to keep herself as a _her_ in her mind—because that way, it would hurt less when it was all taken away.

***

All of that resolve was broken on the third day of school.

Deanna hadn’t talked to anyone she hadn’t needed to yet. Normally, by this time, she had managed to pick up at least one guy, but that felt _wrong_ now. Taboo. It wasn’t for any lack of attraction, of course, but Deanna wasn’t quite sure how John would react if she, while in a man’s body, brought home a guy.

Which left girls.

It wasn’t that Deanna didn’t like girls either, but again, the fact that there was no way of knowing how John would react, and keeping secrets was not an option when you lived in a motel. So Deanna kept to herself, until she met a girl. Or, more accurately, said girl came up and asked for help with her literature assignment. Deanna had explained it to her, and she had asked for her name, which Deanna proceeded to stumble over.

“I’m Deann—um,” she coughed, “I’m Dean.” She felt like an imposter— _Dean? Who was she fooling? No one would believe her, no matter if she looked the part, she was still_ —

“Cool. I’m Rachel.” Rachel stuck out her hand and Deanna— _Dean?_ Dean sounded right—it _felt_ right, and there was no point denying it—shook her hand and forced a smile. “I’m terrible with faces, but you’re new here, right?” Dean nodded. “Alright, in that case, welcome to Friend, friend.” She grinned at her choice of words. “I can show you around later—the town, that is—if you want?”

Dean nodded. “Sure, that sounds great.”

Hands in pockets, he followed Rachel as she walked to lunch.

***

True to her word, Rachel showed Dean around. She had spent the better part of three days dragging him all across Friend; from bars to the thick forest behind the struggling food-mart, Dean had seen every inch of town by the end of the third day and gotten to know Rachel quite well.

She was an only child, only without any of the angst or edgy backstory that typically came with a teen girl who wore all black in a small town. She was nice and cute and always smelled like cinnamon and— _maybe_ Dean had a tiny crush on her but he _wasn’t_ going to act on it. He would leave again soon anyway, and he had no idea how Sam would react, because even if Dean could keep it from John, there was no way to hide things from Sam. Besides, they didn’t even know Dean was _Dean_ and not Deanna.

Would that make things better, or worse?

Dean sighed silently as he looked over to where Rachel was sitting and willed himself to think of different things.

***

John was having a hard time tracking down the werewolf they were after. Dean had offered to help, but John seemed incapable of trusting him with anything. It wasn’t a purebred, either, so they would need to wait a couple weeks before any real work got done, but it didn’t hurt to try to narrow things down while they had the time.

Sam had just gotten back from school, and John was out doing… something. Dean was lost in his thoughts, thinking about the case they were working.

“Did you take my toothpaste, Deanna?” Sam asked, rifling through his duffle bag for toothpaste. Dean internally winced at the name Sam used, but it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know. He should know. Something in the back of Dean’s mind told him this was a bad idea and Sam didn’t really need to know and he could bear it, it really wasn’t that bad—

But it kind of was. Dean took a deep breath, trying to fit the correct words together in his mind. He had forgotten Sam’s initial question, and Sam looked at him with a somewhat worried expression on his face before going back to rifling through his duffle bag.

“Call me Dean,” Dean squeaked out, “please.”

Sam held up a tube of busted toothpaste and looked at it disappointedly. “What?”

“I’m not a—I’m a—my name is Dean.”

Sam paused for a second, and Dean could practically see him thinking. He was probably disappointed in Dean, just like dad would be if Dean told him. Dean braced himself for whatever Sam was about to say.

“Okay. Does this mean I have a brother now?”

Dean managed two sharp, jerky nods.

Sam smiled. “Okay. Thanks for telling me.” He looked down at the broken tube of toothpaste, which was starting to ooze over his hand. “Do you think my brother could drive me to the store so I can get some new toothpaste?”

Dean smiled, shiny-eyed, and grabbed the Impala’s keys from the bedside table. “Sure.”

***

John blew into the motel in a fit of range four days later. He still hadn’t made any headway on the werewolf, or on reversing the spell that had fit Dean into his proper body. Sam flinched minutely as the door slammed, and Dean just ducked his head.

“There’s nothing,” John shouted. “Nothing on the werewolf, and nothing on the damned witch’s damn spell!” He picked up his journal, which was laying on the table, and flipped through it, as if it would magically turn up what he was looking for. He threw it down in anger a moment later. “I’m going to call Bobby.”

Dean felt the blood drain from his face, if anyone could figure out a way to reverse the witch’s spell, it was Bobby. “Don’t!” Dean said, far too quickly. “We can figure out the werewolf thing soon—the moon’s almost at the right phase, and we don’t need to worry about the spell. I’m sure Bobby’s busy.” He waved his hands in a way that should have seemed dismissive, but looked more stressed.

“I’m _trying_ to help you, Deanna—“ John said darkly.

“It’s Dean.” Dean growled, cutting John off. “And I’m staying like this.”

***

It had taken a few days for John to warm up to the idea that he had two sons.

He hadn’t kicked Dean out, but he didn’t talk to him very much the first couple of days, either. The cold silence grated on Dean after a while, but it passed. If it wasn’t for Sam, Dean didn’t know what he would have done during the first couple months.

Things calmed down after a while. They always did; with the life they lead, it was hard to hold grudges. And so it went: saving people, hunting things, the family business. Vampires needed to be decapitated, werewolves stabbed, and vengeful ghosts banished. It was the way of things, and continued to be as such.

Dean didn’t really mind, though, it was the only kind of life he knew. Yes, he resented it at times, but that was just how it was.

Besides, things could only go up from here.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos feed my hungry soul :)


End file.
